


Sky Fall

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Jock Strap [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Bullying, Jackson is the worst, Jock Stiles, M/M, Nerd Scott, Sciles, Teen Wolf AU, season 1 AU, sexualized threats, werewolves oh no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles didn't grow up together and didn't meet until high school. Even though Scott is an awkward outcast and Stiles is one of the most popular kids at BHHS, they've started dating and found they have more in common than they thought. Stiles's best friend Jackson is unhappy at Scott's new rise in social status and sends his lackeys to deliver a warning. Stay away from Stiles or else!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sky Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by Loz's amazing AU [here](http://lozenger8.tumblr.com/post/88246964021/initially-written-for-mating-games-but-i-messed) and [here](http://lozenger8.tumblr.com/post/88264026251/tofixtheshadows-replied-to-your-post-initially). We just couldn't resist playing in her world! What would it be like if Stiles didn't grow up with the boy who taught him how to be kind and Scott didn't have anyone who believed in him so hard he learned to believe in himself?

 

__

_Art by the amazing[Rouvere](http://rouvere.tumblr.com)_

It had no right to be this good. They had no right to make it work so well. The odds were stacked against them. They were very different, and there was no reason this should - except it did. It worked, and Stiles really, really didn’t know how to stop.

They spent most of their days at his house, clothing optional, while his dad was out at work, and most nights at Scott’s, while Melissa worked the late shift. There’d been awkward family dinners, and video games, and  _sex,_  but also one time, someone convinced someone to stick french fries up their nose (exactly who did what first was a little shady). It just, it didn’t make sense. That didn’t mean anything.

They arrived at school separately, but Stiles took Scott out for practice in his spot at the reserve on most days. Scott was improving, anyone could see that. He just needed a little training, and Stiles was perfectly capable of abusing what all of Jackson’s crazy-dedicated summer coaches had taught him by proximity. And the time he spent bending Scott over the locker room benches were just  _fun_. It had started so simple. McCall was just something he needed to fuck out of his system. He just… He just kept thinking of other ways he could fuck him out of his system, so many ways. All of them ended with early morning pancakes, before Melissa got home from work, then Stiles could push Scott against his kitchen counter and blow him until he screamed. Stiles didn’t know how to quit him. He never wanted to learn.

Jackson had all but disappeared from Scott’s life, and Stiles didn’t think about the measures he’d taken to make that happen. But Scott had come up on other people’s radars. Girls borrowed pens from him now, or that might have just been Allison Argent, someone who just seemed way too sweet to be Lydia’s best friend. It didn’t hurt that Stiles had sat at Scott’s lunch table that one time, and gotten into a very serious conversation with Kira over the merits of Daft Punk. It felt like they were arguing over something else entirely.

But the school saw Scott now, a little more, or maybe a lot more. Things were different. Things were better. Then Scott’s phone beeped with an incoming message.

[Text from Stiles:] Got out of meeting early. Wanna train? Meet you at the regular place :)

Stiles’ jeep wouldn’t be there when Scott showed up. Stiles would be half a town away.

___

Scott was in trouble and he knew it. There was an order to things like this, High School was a time of strict caste systems. Everyone knew their place, the nerds with the nerds, the jocks with the jocks. The beautiful people flocked together and the rest of them just tried to get through the day. Someone like Stiles didn’t hang out with someone like him. ‘Hanging out.’ Was that really what it was? Hanging out didn’t really include Stiles fucking him in the locker room until he felt too good to worry about being caught or falling asleep next to someone else and waking up with them still there. Their sheets tangled and sprawled together until he wasn’t sure whose limbs were whose. Maybe the burgers and the gaming and the laughing was hanging out, but he’d never really had a friend before, so he wasn’t sure if it was normal to feel this way. Maybe it was in the outrage in Stiles’s face when he made some Star Was reference that sailed straight over Scott’s head or the way even the tiniest thing could turn into a competition where no one would play fair.

His heart raced too often and even when they pretended not to know each other at school, he’d find his mind wandering to the night before or the whispered promises of the night to come that left him squirming. He burned through inhalers so fast his mom was starting to worry and he had no real answer as to why he was always breathless. What she did notice was the smile that seemed more genuine these days and less like a defense mechanism. He was  _happy_ and people started to see it, which was so strange.

Scott turned his smile and gentle brown eyes on Allison Argent, immediately swept away by how pretty the new girl looked. She made him nervous and slightly giddy because she noticed him and he wore his new sense of pride carefully, like he didn’t trust it. Every time someone would thump him on the back after a good practice or ask if he was going to  _that_  party on Friday, he’d fluster a moment before answering but confidence followed happiness and Scott finally felt comfortable in his own skin. It took someone else seeing something worthwhile in him before he could finally see it for himself. It was all because of Stiles. He was falling so hard and it was such a bad idea and he didn’t care at all.

It didn’t take too long to get out to their spot in the woods on his bike and he leaned it up against a tree, unstrapping his lacrosse stick from his backpack. “Yo, dude! Stiles? Hey…okay.” He pulled out his phone to check the message and frowned. Guess he was running a little late.

___

"Looking for someone McCall?" The woods were a big place. Number 17, Louise Duncan, was a little surprised when Jackson’s information turned out solid, but he didn’t question it. He’d done just as he was asked, parking a good distance from the path to avoid suspicion. A favor was a favor, and he didn’t want to. McCall rubbed him the wrong way, a weakling who didn’t know when to quit and whose presence grated on his nerves. He took up time and space, and he had Stiles going gaga for him because he put out. He was embarrassed for Stiles. Duncan was tall for his age, and already made some trucks feel small and inadequate. The bat in his hand swung easily.

Berry Gellar kicked Scott’s bike to the ground, stepping over it. He didn’t have a bat, but the lead pipe he wielded would work just as well. He didn’t seem shocked to see Gellar. Jackson was the sort of guy who liked to make sure a job was completed right.

"About time you learned that Stiles isn’t good for you."

___

“You don’t have to do this.” He kept his voice calm, backing away slowly as his hands twisted around the lacrosse stick. It wouldn’t stand up against something made of solid wood or metal, but it looked like he didn’t have a better option. How had they found out about Stiles? Were they being that careless? They’d had some risky brushes with getting caught, but Scott always thought they’d managed to get away with it.

The boy should have run. They were bigger and his lungs were bad, but there was a slim chance he could lose them in the trees. Pride kept him rooted to the spot. Not pride, righteousness. Bullies didn’t get to call the shots, just because you were bigger than someone didn’t give you the right to hurt anyone. Scott was afraid, but he stared them down with squared shoulders and set jaw, willing to defend his convictions. “We’re supposed to be teammates, guys. We work together, remember? No one has to get hurt.”

Scott took another step backwards, raising the lacrosse stick in defense. “C’mon…there’s a better way, you don’t have to just beat someone up because  _he_  told you to.”

Sometimes words really didn’t matter.

___

"The thing is - you shouldn’t be on the team."

Scott barely had a moment before the pipe swung, aiming across his abdomen. Duncan moved almost at the same time, swinging for Scott’s knees. They wanted him on the ground, aching and bruised and unable to breathe without feeling pain. They wanted to tear him apart.

Strong hands tugged at his clothes, stripping him with callous efficiency. Brutal hands grabbed him by the hair, yanking him to his feet. And they had no qualms turning to fists, either. Duncan held Scott in place as Gellar bound his wrists, duct tape unyielding to his protests. Duncan slapped him across the face, open-palmed and loud, and compared to everything else, it was gentle.

"God, McCall, did you have to be such a fucking slut?" He asked, gripping Scott by the jaw like he was trying to break it. "You think he’ll want you if you can’t move your mouth?"

___

He was not going to cry. He was going to hold it together and feel nothing but anger as he held his ground. Scott gasped at the pain and squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could. This he could deal with, this wasn’t his first fight. The wave of humiliation as he was stripped and bound was new and he felt the first real prickle of fear running down his spine. He didn’t mean to whimper at the slap, turning the sound into a snarl.

“You’re just jealous.” Scott could barely get the words out around Duncan’s grasp, jerking his head backwards and spitting in his face. “You couldn’t get someone to touch you if you paid for it, is that what this is about? Or are you just so willing to be Jackson’s little pet dogs. What did he promise you, huh? What was worth this?” Body protesting every moment and hands still tightly bound, he lunged forward only to be held back by Gellar’s hands bruising into his flesh.

“He didn’t come himself, did he? Just sent his brainless little lackeys to do it because he’s just a coward. You can be better than he is, just walk away.”

___

Duncan punched him like he wanted to break Scott’s face. The sickening crack of bone only spurred him on, tightening his grip on his bat as he took another swing at Scott’s chest. Gellar dropped him, going for Scott’s bag. He threw emptied everything on the ground, and tossed the boy’s inhaler into the trees. He crushed Scott’s phone beneath his feet until plastic splintered and broke. Duncan wouldn’t give him time to concentrate. He kicked Scott in the chest, careless of where he landed.

"Maybe I’ll just use you. Save a few bucks." He sneered, spitting at Scott’s head. He grabbed Scott by the throat, hauling him to his feet and slamming him into a tree. The bat slipped between his legs, parting his thighs. "Or I could shove this so far up your cunt, it’ll come out of your mouth."

Gellar made quick work of Scott’s bike, a few sharp hits guaranteeing it wouldn’t be of use to anyone for a while. If McCall could get back to town like this, he’d have earned it.

___

 _He was going to die._  Scott fought back, lunging wildly at his attackers and trying to headbutt them before the fist to his face sent him reeling. He couldn’t breathe, chest rattling from more than weak lungs as each breath caused something broken and sharp to grind together. He couldn’t even try to pull Duncan’s fingers from his throat, straining against his restraints like he could break free. His head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to curl into himself like it could give him any kind of protection.

“S-stop.” He begged, voice cracked and biting back a sob. So much for not crying. “Please, stop. I’ll stay away, just stop!” Scott coughed hard, knees buckling as his body sagged against the tree.  Why were they doing this?! What did they care? Did Jackson hate him so much? How could anyone hate him so much, he hadn’t done anything to them. His entire body tensed at the feel of the bat between his legs, muscles corded so tightly he shook. “I’m sorry.” The words were lost as he choked on his own blood. “Duncan,  _please!_ ”

___

Duncan pulled back, just long enough for him to swing his bat. It slammed across the small of Scott’s back, and left the boy to fall. He let out a soft scoff, barely audible under the crunch of dead leaves. “Pathetic.”

He nodded once at Gellar, leaving Scott to fend for himself, never turning back to check on their victim, not even once. They weren’t the only ones in the woods that night. They were just the only humans.

It would be a long time before Stiles found him.

___

Scott wasn’t sure how long he lay, cold and exposed as dark bruises bloomed along his skin and the bleeding slowly stopped. His hands had gone numb long ago, the duct tape binding too tight and digging into his wrists as he struggled against them. It took a long time before he could breathe again, spitting blood and feeling like he was drowning in his own lungs as his vision narrowed down to dark tunnels from lack of oxygen. He might have passed out, he couldn’t tell anymore. The boy struggled up to his knees, back bowed as he at least tried to get his clothes on. There was no way he’d be able to make it home like this.

A soft rustling out in the bushes startled him and he lost his precarious balance, tipping forward onto his face with a grunt of pain. The rustling grew louder before the deer burst from cover, sharp hooves pounding the earth around him as Scott curled into a ball and shrieked. _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!_ The panicked herd moved off and he slowly opened his eyes, staring after them in shock. “What the he-…”

He never had the chance to complete his thought. A heavy weight hit his back, something huge and rank that leaned close with hot breath curling around his neck. Scott twisted, catching a glimpse of glowing red eyes and too much fur as he screamed. There wasn’t an escape. He was trussed up and bound like an offering, exactly what the beast had been hunting for. The last thing Scott felt was the searing pain as fangs tore into the soft meat of his side and then nothing.

When he managed to open his eyes, swollen and black, the bright white sheets and pastel walls of the hospital almost blinded him.

___

Stiles didn’t want to be there, not really. It was a pre-season private coaching consultation (yeah,  _really_ ) with Coach Finstock and a few of the Whittemore’s hired hands. Jackson took lacrosse scholarship opportunities seriously. Stiles didn’t even know they were a thing, but he’d agreed to go, no matter where his career in lacrosse lay. Maybe Jackson had a future in it, but Stiles knew he was being there as - well, as a friend. Jackson wouldn’t have offered if he hadn’t wanted Stiles to join him. Courtesy wasn’t his strong point.

It was exactly what Stiles had expected. A lot of info bombing, a few physical checkups and pretty intense questions about his preparatory college applications - and vaguely, he wondered about dinner, and whether or not Scott would mind going out for awesome roast beef sandwiches and (awesomer) sloppy make outs in the park.

What he hadn’t expected was Jackson cornering him at the end of it. Stiles never considered himself naive. ”What the Hell are you doing with McCall? Did you lose a bet? What’s he got on you, Stiles? Does he put out? If you just wanna get off, I can find you ten guys who are twice as hot and won’t die halfway through fucking.”

Stiles would have replied. It had been a long time since he’d been shocked by his best friend, but he could deflect like a pro. Except his cellphone was sticking out of his bag’s pocket, and he hadn’t been so careless, not since Scott. Maybe he should have changed his password. “What did you do?”

Jackson didn’t look guilty. He looked annoyed, but Stiles was already halfway out the door. In retrospect, he should have asked more questions. He wasted too much time.

He called Scott half a dozen times. They all went to voice mail. The McCall house was dark, and Scott’s bike wasn’t in the garage. He called Kira. He called Boyd. He didn’t think about calling his Dad until he pulled into the reserve and found what was left of Scott’s bike. He didn’t remember what he said. He only remembered screaming.

There was a heavy weight on Scott’s wrist, hiding the discoloration of skin where duct tape had been carefully removed. Stiles’ fingers curled loosely over it, thumb moving intermittently as he helped himself to a slowly emptying pack of chips. He was still in the clothes he wore at school, and despite the book spread across his lap, Stiles had given up reading long ago. It was the middle of the night, and Stiles had no right to be this close. He wasn’t family. Sometimes he wondered if they were even friends. Melissa looked at him like she didn’t recognize him, but Stiles begged to stay and somehow that had been enough.

___

There wasn’t an inch of Scott’s body that didn’t hurt. His side was on fire, his face felt swollen, his head rang, and every joint ached bone deep and throbbing. Even his skin hurt which was totally a thing and not just him being over-dramatic. He ran his tongue carefully across his split lip and tried to sit up as pain shot through him and he whimpered. It was a pathetic sound, but he wasn’t really in the mood to care. How many bones did they break? They hadn’t held back at all. And then the… oh god, that thing tried to eat him! It was  _huge_ , like some distorted mutant wolf or something. He was going to die from rabies too.

But it was over, he recognized the familiar walls of the hospital. He’d spent more time here than almost anywhere else, waiting for his mom to get off work when he was little and quietly reading books or playing his Gameboy in the waiting room. She’d always worried that he’d been happier to hang around her instead of trying to make friends of his own. He must be more battered than he thought to end up here.

“Stiles?” His voice was rough and hoarse from screaming himself bloody. The boy almost smiled before pulling his arm away with a wince. “Y-you shouldn’t be here. You have to go. They don’t want-“ Scott snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth together.  No way, he wasn’t going to talk about it. “I’m sorry.”

___

Stiles had looked over at every whimper, every wince like a trained poodle, getting out of his seat more times than he could count since he’d gotten there. He’d given two official statements, one of which his dad was present for, but he hadn’t gone farther than the waiting room. Scott’s room still smelled vaguely like cheap take out, and there was a cold apple turnover squished against Stiles’ bag for him.

Stiles knocked his chair over in his haste to stand, but he was trying to kiss Scott a second later, chapped lips brushing tenderly against split skin. They’d hurt him so badly. The first time he saw Scott’s injuries, he’d nearly collapsed. This wasn’t fair. Jackson went too far.

"Who were they?" He asked softly, and he should have started with asking about how Scott was feeling, or tried to make him feel better. But Scott was disoriented and in so much pain, and Stiles knew just how to push for the answer he needed. He ruined it when a choked sob escaped him, and he kissed Scott again, slower this time but no less careful. "Tell me an’ I’ll give you pie."

___

Scott’s face crumbled, kissing back with a low whine and reaching out to twist his fingers into Stiles’s shirt. He felt like he should be apologizing for something, like it was his fault that people had started to notice him instead of just ignoring him as they always did. “I can’t.” The boy shook his head and groaned, pushing Stiles away. “It was just an accident, I’m okay. It was a-a… there was an animal.”

It took more effort than he realized to try and maneuver a look, rucking up the soft cotton shirt someone had found for him and running a questing hand down the bandage near his hip. “It looked like a wolf or something. That’s it, that’s what hurt me.” An animal didn’t explain the restraint marks around his wrists or the wide bruises from some sort of weapon that covered his abdomen and his legs.

He wasn’t going to say any names, it was bad enough already and Scott couldn’t imagine how much worse it would get if he told anyone what they’d done. Next time, they really might kill him. He could handle this on his own. Somehow. “Can I still have pie?”

___

Don’t move, Stiles nearly pleaded. Except Scott tried to push him away, and he wasn’t willing to go far. 

Stiles’ expression crumbled. There was only so much information he’d been granted, and even less that he’d had the chance to eavesdrop on. Part of him was mad that Scott could even consider lying to him. The rest of him wanted to get into bed with him, hold him forever and kiss away the memories of that day. He wondered if Jackson had paid anyone, or if his influence had been enough to sway motive.

"I found you, dude," he whispered, like that would explain enough of his disbelief. He rested his head against Scott’s, leaning close enough that their noses could brush. The smell of medicine and rubbing alcohol clung to Scott’s skin, and they shouldn’t have been here at all. He kissed him again, another apology and the sweetest reprimand. Stiles wanted to make sure he stayed safe.

He pulled out the pie, a sad, squished thing from beneath a couple of textbooks. The ‘Caution: Contents Hot’ sign did not live up to its threat. He dangled it just above Scott’s belly. “Keep talking.”

___

Scott traced a hand carefully down the side of Stiles’s cheek, so sorry for making him worry.  This was his fault. If the other boy had found him, then he must have seen everything; there’d been no way to hide what they did to him. How had he even gotten back to the hospital? Oh god, who else knew this happened? His breathing hitched like he was going to cry and Scott threaded shaking hands into Stiles’s hair. He tried to laugh a little at the dangled pie, so willing to embrace the humor and try to pretend that none of this had happened.

“You can’t tease about pie, dude. That’s just cruel.” He made a weak grab for it before noticing the bruises around his wrist and pulling his hands back under the sheets. “I can’t hang out with you anymore, Stiles. They said, t-they… it was good. I had fun, but we have to stop. It wasn’t gonna be serious, it was just a  _thing_. It’s no big deal.”

He looked crushed, such a terrible liar. Scott fought to smile, hiding behind it like he’d learned to as a lonely kid. “Can I still have pie though? Since you’re here and everything.”

___

“ _No._ " Stiles hissed, and he wanted to pull Scott close, and hide him away from the rest of the world. He could smuggle him out of town, wrapped in blankets after Stiles broke a vending machine open. They’d survive for at least a week together, then someone was bound to get homesick, and - and it was so unfair that he hadn’t realized how good Scott was for him sooner. A lot sooner.

"I told your mom I was your boyfriend. Sorry if she didn’t know yet." Scott could learn lying from the best, but Scott wanted proof that this meant something. Scott needed to see that Stiles spending the night here wasn’t a fluke or some sort of friendship thing or something, something less. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t  _just_  fun. It was finding someone who fit along all his jagged edges without getting hurt, and sharpened them tenfold. Stiles hadn’t felt so relaxed since Jackson thought he had parents. And if this worked, he’d tell Melissa. He’d tell her twice if he had to.

"So shut up and move over and... and tell me. Because I’m not going anywhere." He snapped, and lunged forward, trying to kiss a smile back on Scott’s face. "Tell me, then shut up," he amended, looking so upset that Scott could even make the suggestion. 

___

Dark eyes stared out through darker bruises, shock clear. He’d hoped, but it was that kind of awful teenage crush sort of dream where you scribble someone’s name in a notebook and never  _really_  think that anything would come of it. He’d gotten more than he’d thought possible, he had tried so hard to convince himself it was enough.

“Seriously? Boyfriend?” Scott didn’t know whether to throw his arms around Stiles or to crawl under the covers to hide. It felt like something in his chest broke, all the hurt and shame and rage he’d kept penned inside burst out in a rush. “You don’t need a name, you know exactly who did this. He might not have been the one swinging the fucking baseball bat, but he sent them to hurt me as a warning to stay away from you. I don’t know what the fuck his problem is! Maybe he just hates me or maybe he wants you for himself or whatever, but he made it pretty clear you and me are over.” He dug his fingers into the bed, almost afraid at how much anger he kept locked inside.

“I’m sorry.” He was immediately conciliatory, always apologizing for how he felt and any outburst. Words weren’t working, everything that came out of his mouth was a train wreck so he moved over as far as he could in the bed.

___

Stiles knew exactly who to blame. Part of him just didn’t want to accept it. He was stunned silent at the outburst, watching Scott’s features crumble. He shouldn’t have been. He knew what Jackson was capable of. He just didn’t want to face it so soon. He wanted to work towards an outcome he already knew would play out, but some part of Stiles believed that if he could set the ground work for their inevitable conclusion, he’d be more ready to accept what happened.

"Stop," he whispered, but he was already kicking off his shoes, and doing his best into slipping into all the spaces Scott had left open. "Stop apologizing."

He tucked himself carefully against Scott’s side, thinking about all the times they’d done this before, how natural it felt, how  _good._  He wrapped an arm slowly around Scott’s middle, careful of all the things he’d seen earlier. Beneath Scott’s hospital gown, the fabric worryingly thin, were more bandages than Stiles wanted to think about. He kissed the base of Scott’s neck.

Stiles knew there were sides he’d have to pick eventually, and he’d tried so long to put if off. Right now, there was only one right answer. “The police are gonna ask you, too… Gonna need to get to them to get to him, and I’m not letting anyone else touch you again.”

Stiles wondered about the merit of those promises. He’d failed the first time around. “We’re  _boyfriends_ ,” he muttered, and a dark flush of color spread across his cheeks and pinked his ears. “Facebook official. Your Mom official. He can go jump in a fire.”

___

Scott jumped at the touch. Every nerve in his body felt raw and hypersensitive like someone had cranked everything up to eleven. He felt like he could hear the blood pulsing in Stiles’s veins, he could smell the mint mojito gum tucked in the other boy’s pocket, the lights seemed over bright and even the muted colors of the hospital room were intense. He buried his face against Stiles’s shoulder, trying to shut everything out.

“I’m not talking to the police.” Scott’s mind was made up. If he got them in trouble, then everyone would know what happened to him. There wouldn’t be any way to go back to just being a normal kid again and thing were finally starting to look up. He’d find another way to deal with it that didn’t involve turning the entire lacrosse team against him or making him into some kind of pariah. “I’m okay, it wasn’t a big deal. It… it was just a joke that went too far and then I was attacked by a wolf or something. That’s it.” The police wouldn’t believe him, but if he refused to press the issue, they’d have to let it drop.

“Just let it go.” There were more important things to care about, like how could he get closer to the boy beside him without making anything hurt and what was the best way to kiss him without splitting his lip open. “Facebook official is a pretty big deal, are you sure? Everyone’s going to know.” Jackson wouldn’t be the only one surprised or unhappy with someone like Scott dating someone like Stiles. The backlash could be bad, especially from the rest of the team. “You’re really sure you want to do this?”

___

"It is a big deal," Stiles stressed, hands tightening clumsily across skin that was bruised and hurt. It was only as he spoke the words that it really began to settle, just how big a deal it was. He was supposed to say ‘yes.’ He was supposed to be the one who Scott followed into all this, and he was supposed to keep Scott safe. Except they’d done this to Scott before he and Stiles had been anything serious. All Stiles knew was that he wanted to make sure they paid for what they’d done.

"I don’t know," he confessed, burying his face in soft, floppy locks. He’d spent so much time tugging on Scott’s hair, mostly in jest, sometimes with a far more loaded intentions. He loved how it felt between his fingers. He loved how pulling could make Scott shiver. His features scrunched, worried but determined, "I don’t want you to get hurt. I want everyone to know… If they mess with you, they mess with me."

He ran a hand down Scott’s back, fingers skirting over the outlines of rough bandages and grazing over the animal bite. The first of the rabies shots had already been administered, but Scott was in for an uncomfortable few weeks. Stiles was going to shoot that thing, too. Probably a large dog, he guessed. There were no wolves in California. “Is that okay with you?”

___

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but Scott was a firm believer in repeating things until you convinced yourself they were true. If he said yes, he’d get what he wanted at the expense of everything in Stiles’s life. He’d never known what it was like to be a loner and an outcast before, it wasn’t fun painting a target on your own back. He might think he could handle it, but how long before Stiles started resenting him for losing all of his friends and his social status? Plus, Scott doubted that Jackson would just let things go if Stiles took a stand. Maybe the next time, they’d both be attacked? Or maybe they’d just beat Scott hard enough to kill him.

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Can we just-, let’s just wait. Just stay here and we’ll figure it out later.” Putting it off wasn’t going to help anything or somehow make the choice any easier, but Scott hurt and all he wanted to do was pretend none of it had ever happened. He tried to push down the sound of the bat smacking against his body and the threats to make him do  _things_  he didn’t want to do.

Scott curled as carefully as he could against his  _boyfriend_  and closed his eyes as something feral twisted in his gut. “I don’t feel well. Let it go, Stiles.”

___

Scott was shaking, so faint Stiles wondered if he even noticed it. Stiles couldn’t keep the unhappy frown that twisted his mouth. He needed to fight back the urge to hug him tighter, so careful about all the things he could damage. He didn’t like Scott’s answer. It was an out, plain and simple, but Stiles didn’t like it, and he didn’t know why. It was an easy solution to a difficult question, but his head was still spinning in all the wrong ways. 

"We’re official," he claimed stubbornly, kissing the shell of Scott’s ear. He tried to wrap himself as tightly as he could around the other boy, scowling like he thought he had a chance of scaring the rest of the world away. "Even if it’s only between us. You’re meeting my dad, and like - I dunno, wearing a stupid tie…"

And Stiles was going to find that dog and shoot it between the eyes. Then he’ll find the animal that bit Scott. “Rest, okay? I’m thinking about all the dumb pet names I can go with. Snugglepuff’s at the top of the list.”

In a few minutes, a doctor would come in and try very hard not to yell at Stiles for disturbing his patient. Until then, Stiles was going to hold Scott as closely as he could, and only play a little bit with the hospital gown flap.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)
> 
> Art by the amazing [Rouvere](http://rouvere.tumblr.com)


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